what's underneath all the clothes Brooke Davis?
by ipodder
Summary: brooke/owen oneshot...lengthy! please review


Brooke Davis

From the first moment I laid my eyes on her, I knew she was one of those girls. Self involved, self absorbed, spoilt, flirty and well, I've got to admit, mind blowingly attractive. Of course I knew who the hell she was, I drive past her boutique everyday on my way to work, and I don't exactly live under a stone, I've seen the magazines and the articles, and I have definetly heard of the rumours.

Yep, the rumours are even more mind blowing than reality itself. Rumours circulating from her casual dating/benefitting with serveral young actors, to her being a total slut in high school, that one, I can somehow believe. I don't know, I've been a bartender for quite some time, and the routine is the same, repetitive, boring even. But every bar is different, I caught on early that Tric was very, very different.

From sneaky, small town underage youngsters, pretending to use their more than fake looking, fake IDs, to the drama that goes on in here. I stand back and mind my own business, while observing this close group in front of me. That was the first night I was introduced to Brooke Davis, or in other words, she introduced herself to me. She was with her friends from high school, it was obvious they were _the shit_ back in high school, one of the guys is an NBA player, I think. They still all got the attitude too, walking in as if they own the place. I found out later that one of the guys, pretty blonde boy Lucas does kind of own the place, through his mom. One girl in particular, brunette, dimples, clevage with all the figure, seemed to really stand out. She loved being the centre of attention, having young girls come up for autographs. I didn't know who the hell she was at first, and then it clicked. She was in the paper the other day, titled as _Big time celebrity/fashion mogul comes back to home town_. I thought she would have this high pitched cheerleader voice, one that would echo her _Oh my God_s all throughout the bar. But when she said something to me, about wanting her autograph, i was surprised, and actually a little attracted to the fact that her voice was low, scratchy and raspy.

The rest was history. We, or rather, she began this game of cat and mouse chase between us. She would come over, order the most retarded fruity drinks ever created, even though I know she can more than handle her alcohol, hence the disgusting Brooke Davis shot she named after herself. I think she does that to annoy me, because a manly guy like me wouldn' t like to make girly cocktails. She was wrong, I loved making those cocktails for her, because she drinks a lot of them, and the more she drinks, the more hilarious she gets. I would hate to admit this, but I enjoy her flirting, no matter how cold I seem, I'm still a guy, and which straight guy wouldn't want to be the object of Brooke Davis affection? Even if it's only for a few drunken nights.

Our flirting was harmless, but I got tired of it. I didn't want to just be a rich girl's target, or a benefit. So I pulled myself out of our banters, I wanted to see if she had substance, I really did. I wasn't too sure if she did, to be honest. But one night when I was bartending, I overheard a conversation between two women who I think went to school with her.

'Ashley, oh my god that's Brooke Davis'

I turned my ears at the mention of her name.

The other girl, who I assumed was called Ashley, smirked.

'I bet she slept her way to the top. Just like she did in high school'

Ouch, I thought, so Brooke was that kind of girl, I couldn't help but feel a little dissapointed, without knowing why.

Brooke was around that night, clutching yet another fruity cocktail, I forgot she was sitting on the bar stool, right in front of me. I wondered if she heard what the women were saying, I looked up to find her staring at me. Suddenly she didn't look so guarded and flirtatious, she looked vulnerable and embarrased, her eyes, once playful and gleaming, were sad. If it didn't happen so quickly, I was certain I saw a teardrop formed in her right eye. She made a half second eye contact with me, one I would have surely missed if I blinked. I'm glad I didn't, and I didn't know why.

'You're that girl huh?'

One who took a jab at my car, made fun of me for being a bartender, paraded her wealth and success right in my face. I said something to her that day, it was a line I used to challenge her, but a part of me didn't want to test her, I was just plain curious, fucking curious in fact. Who the hell is this girl? One minute she's feeling insecure about some random woman's petty comments, a minute later she's dancing in the centre of the room, shaking her hips and running her hands through her silky hair like a herbal essance ad.

'what's underneath all the clothes Brooke Davis?'

Being typical Brooke Davis, she sat naked in the backseat of my car. I forced myself not to look, cos I know I'll be tempted. Part of me was heartbroken that she would do that, but another part of me wouldn't have said no if she offered.

'Your place of mine?' I asked, a tiny part of me hoped she would say

'Right here', in her raspy voice.

I was half serious when I asked her that, although I would never admit it.

'As if'

I wasn't sure if I heard correctly.

'You haven't earned it, bartender boy'

And although a part of me was dissapointed, a much bigger part of me was happy.

My stomach did a flip when she kissed my cheek, and I felt like a love struck ten year old, rather than an experienced manly man I knew I was.

I took a flight with her to New York. I couldn't believe myself.

When I saw her cry, I wanted to sweep her into my arms and hug her sensless.

But I had her freaking friend to save, and right then I was confronted with a ghost from my past.

My alcoholism, but somehow Brooke didn't make a big deal out of it , it felt nice.

When she kissed my neck as a form of thanks, my stomach did a flip.

And I have never felt more weak and exposed

We became unexclusively exclusive after that; hanging out and going places as a couple. We never kissed, let alone have sex. I think she was trying to prove those petty women wrong; she wasn't a slut. And I knew she wasn't, she feels too much to be one.

I couldn't believe she was the girl who took Chase's virginity, although that grossed me out, it kind of made me like her more. Chase told me once that she loved the purity in him, he even showed me what she wrote in his yearbook.

The night she fired her mother, she was a disaster.

Her make up was smudged, her hair was a mess and her clothes were crumpled.

'Hey', she said in a tired voice, I noticed it was raspier than usual.

'I'm sorry for stopping by so late, I just fired my mom and I feel like shit'

I led her into my apartment and waited patiently outside the bathroom while she freshened up.

When she came out, her make up was all washed off, and I have never seen her without make up before.

I loved it.

She glanced up at me and gave me a slight smile.

We stared at eachother for about 7 seconds.

I didn't want to ruin the moment by saying anything, she spoke up.

'You wanted to know what was under the clothes'

I thougth for a second that she wanted sympathy sex.

She shrugged.

'I am who I am. I love my friends and would do anything for them. I love my godson Jamie, although people think I'll make a terrible mother. I secretly yearn for a family, for a baby'

Her eyes soften, and mine did too.

'I am the most insecure person I know, although I don't look it'

I stood still, not knowing what to say.

'And when I play these games with you. It is to test you. Because I don't know if you would want me if you knew all of my fears'

I smiled at her. God she has no idea, yet she does, this is what I wanted to know all along.

'Thank you, Brooke'.

She looked at me with loving eyes, and I don't know what I have done to deserve being looked at like that.

She placed a soft hand on my cheek and I closed my eyes.

I felt like a boy waiting for his first kiss.

A second later I felt a soft pair of lips on mine. I nearly let out a breath I didn't know i was holding.

She pressed her lips onto mine. We kissed for about 20 seconds or so, her hands were running against my hair, and I pushed her back to the wall.

As we were slowly easing ourselves into it, releasing a few weeks' worth of sexual tension, I felt her tongue on my lips, delicately asking for entrance. She was a fantastic kisser, but I could tell that just by looking at her. Her question was unsure, hesitant almost. I granted it and soon our tongues were moving together, and I couldn't help but wonder why it fit so well.

She pulled away after two minutes. Her lips were swollen and her face was never more beautiful.

I knew it wouldn't go further than that tonight, and I was fine with it.

We spent the night drinking coffee, eating popcorn and watching movies.

I was amazed at how thing felt so ordinary between us.

I was amazed at how I managed to get someone like her.

I was amazed at myself, I never felt more complete while just watching TV with her.

I wanted to know what was underneath the clothes, and although I wasn't being literal, I wasn't being this deep.

I got so much more than I asked for.

She gave me a piece of her soul.

Brooke Davis is a puzzle, and with each meeting with her, I manage to unlock her a little more. Even though it's a slow process that takes patience, I don't think anyone else is worth the trouble.

Anyone else except her.


End file.
